Poetry Here & Now: S. Sushant

A fearful thought
One day
I returned home
but it did not seem
like my house.
The house number was same
but the relatives living in it
seemed complete strangers.
The street was same
but there was a
haunting strangeness about it.
The neighbours were same
but their eyes
seemed so unrecognizable.
This was my own city
but it had a pungent smell
of alienness to it.
This was a fearful thought.
More fearful was the fact that
I called everyone
by their nicknames
but no one responded.

The magnificent house
built of marble
and expensive foreign tiles
is home to you
whereas I am a wanderer.
like the wind.
For you,
sleeping on soft mattresses
is homecoming,
whereas for me,
being lost
in search of new horizons
is homecoming.

a sharp-edged man
pierced a thorn
The thorn
cried out in pain
After much effort
could the thorn
remove that sharp-edged man
from his body
Only then could the thorn
heave a sigh of relief.
( * The present dark age according to Hindu mythology )


S. Sushant writes from India. The poems were originally written in Hindi, with the English translation done by the writer himself.

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